Secondary School Drama
by RedEyedWarrior
Summary: In this parody fic of one of YouTube's greatest, videos created by one of the world's greatest YouTubers ever, Staci struggles to come to terms with being fat after being dumped by Heather, the school's queen bee. Can a certain Goth girl cheer Staci up and prevent her from sustaining an eating disorder?


**This fic is a parody of one of Shane Dawson's YouTube videos. That guy is one legend. He's better than Fred Figglehorn in my opinion, though Fred Figglehorn is still cool. This story is also a revived chapter from _Total Drama Yuri_.**

* * *

Secondary School Drama

* * *

Gwen was drinking water from the drinking fountain when Heather and her girlfriend, Staci, approached her.

"Hey Tranny McPussyFace, quit contaminating the drinking water with your Gothic germs!" jeered Heather.

Gwen lucked up from the fountain, glaring at the queen bee. "Hang on a sec," said Gwen. She placed her left index finger on the left side of her nose before blowing mucous out from her nostril; spewing the contents into the fountain. "All yours," Gwen sneered, and she left the scene.

Heather huffed. "She thinks she's so great with her blue highlights, her skinny legs and her wide boobs-" she muttered.

"What?" asked Staci.

"Nothing," Heather lied. Fortunately, Staci didn't hear what Heather said about Gwen, nor was she interested. She only asked because Staci felt she was compelled to ask. Changing the subject, Staci chirped:

"Have you ever wished that those fountains were filled with ketchup?! Ooh, ooh: how about chocolate milk? No! Ooh, ooh; mayonnaise!"

"Baby, can I talk to you for a second?" asked Heather. "You're getting kinda…"

"Kinda what?" asked Staci, eating a turkey sandwich.

"Kinda…" Heather began.

"Pretty?" squealed Staci, as she slurped from three bottles of Coca-Cola simultaneously through straws.

"No, that's not it, you're…" said Heather.

"Beautiful?" beamed Staci, stuffing her face with dough balls.

"No, you're…" Heather continued.

"Independent?" swooned Staci, munching on a double cheeseburger.

"No…" said Heather.

"Come on, Heather, I'm not a mind reader," Staci urged, licking her fingers that were covered in chili sauce.

"You're…you're kinda fat!" was Heather's answer.

Staci stopped licking her fingers. She was shocked. She cannot believe her own girlfriend, of **all** people, has just said that.

"I'm sorry, Staci," said Heather, sadly, "I can't be with a fat chick. My friends are already making fun of me." The Asian-Canadian queen-bee pointed towards Courtney and Anne Maria. Both were Heather's fellow cheerleaders and apparently neither of them approved of Heather's relationship with Staci.

"Hey Heather!" jeered Courtney. "I didn't know you were dating a Chink!"

"Ew, I'm not a Chink!" groaned Staci, flinching. She looked down to see for herself, however. She immediately registered her extended belly. She could hardly see her feet.

"She's got more chins than a Chinese phone book!" jeered Anne Maria. Staci gasped in sheer horror.

"OOH-OOH!" chanted Courtney and Anne Maria in unison, slapping a high-five.

"I'm sorry Staci," said Heather, not seeming the slightest bit apologetic. "It's over. Oh, and I almost forgot my water," she added, taking a sip from the fountain.

"Can I at least have a hug?" asked Staci.

"No," replied Heather, coldly. She had Gwen's mucous on her face, but she seemed oblivious. "Fat girls don't get hugs." She left the scene, leaving a distressed Staci behind. Staci looked on as her ex-girlfriend walked unemotionally down the hallway before disappearing from the brunette's sight around the corner as the lyrics from _Hallelujah_ by Alexandra Burke began to play in the background.

* * *

Staci was in the bathroom, clutching her stomach miserably as she stood in front of the mirror. All of a sudden, the song was cut short by the sound of someone vomiting profusely, followed by the sound of the toilet flushing, coming from one of the cubicles.

As it was, none other than Blaineley exited one of the cubicles. Like Staci, Heather and Gwen, Blaineley was in her last year of secondary school, even though she was thirty-eight years old. The reason why Blaineley was still in school was probably because she kept repeating the last year of school since no college in their right mind would let a bitch like Blaineley in and Blaineley was determined to get accepted into college, despite obvious indications of her attempts being in vain.

"Are you okay?" asked Staci, raising an eye brow.

"Never been better," beamed Blaineley. "Those sixteen hot dogs that I ate were delicious."

Staci snickered. "Ha, if I ate all that I would get fat-" she paused to observe her reflection in the mirror once more before miserably adding "-ter."

"Oh, I eat more than you do, and yet, I am still half as skinny as an anorexic emo chick or a starving Ethiopian child," Blaineley boasted, holding up a picture of a skinny teenage girl dressed in black who appeared to be of sub-Saharan African descent. "How do I do it? Simple! I owe it all to my best friend, Indie," she added, vainly, dangling her left index finger before Staci.

"That's really weird," replied Staci, shuddering.

"Don't worry, it's not as weird as you, but here's a copy of the latest _Lose Those Grams_ magazine," said Blaineley, handing Staci the magazine. "You'll need it more than I ever did and will. Come Indie, we have a photo pageant to win," she said to her finger, before leaving Staci to ponder about what to do with her weight.

* * *

Gwen was sitting in class. Her teacher, Mr Hatchet, was drawing a diagram on the whiteboard.

"And that is what the Gates of Hell look like," said Mr Hatchet, after he had completed the diagram.

Gwen raised her hand. "I thought this was Maths class, sir," she protested.

"It is," Mr Hatchet answered, "but given the looks of you all, this information will be more relevant." Noah, who sat in another row of desks, also raised his hand.

"How do you know that?" he asked, darkly. For a moment Mr Hatchet was lost for words.

"I've t-talked to a-army veterans who had near death experiences and shit- NOAH, YOU'VE GOTTEN YO SCRAWNY ASS IN DETENTION FOR ASKING STUPID QUESTIONS YA LIT'L SHIT!" Mr Hatchet bellowed. Noah rolled his eyes, knowing this would have no effect on his transcript of records whatsoever. Mr Hatchet calmed down a few seconds later and said: "Right, and now it's time to learn how to tell your parents you are a worthless, good-for-nothing piece of shit that is undoubtedly going to burn in Hell for all eternity and beyond. Gwen, listen up," he added, diverting his attention towards Gwen. Gwen snapped her pencil in half in response. The top half of the pencil was flung off-screen.

"OW, MY EYE! GOSH!" wailed Harold, who was sitting behind Gwen. The sharp end of the top half of the pencil managed to cut through his glasses and get lodged in his eye. Nevertheless, nobody cared to do anything about it.

And then Staci entered the room.

"Oh, why hello Staci," beamed Mr Hatchet. Next, his smile turned into a scowl. "You're late," he snarled, "detention!"

"But-" protested Staci.

"ZIP IT, MAGGOT!" barked Mr Hatchet. Staci burst into tears and rushed to her desk, which was next to Gwen's. Staci was upset. Today was the worst day of her life. Her girlfriend broke up with her just because she was fat, and she got a detention courtesy of Mr Hatchet, because she was late for Maths class. She was so miserable, she barely registered the fact that the magazine Blaineley gave her fell off her desk and landed next to Gwen's feet.

However, Gwen did. She looked at Staci, who was leaning against the back of her chair whilst dragging a capped pen lazily against the surface of her desk. Gwen looked over at Mr Hatchet, who was drawing up rubbish on the whiteboard that wasn't in anyway relevant to Maths. With a sigh, Gwen reached over and picked up the magazine.

Unfortunately, Mr Hatchet caught her. "Gwendolyn, what did I say about passing notes in class?" he demanded.

"It's not a note," Gwen corrected him.

Mr Hatchet was taken aback by this. Well, he was certainly not going to let Gwen get away with having the nerve to talk back to him. "Okay then," he sneered. "If it's not a note, then why don't you read it aloud in front of the whole class?"

"I can't, sir," said Gwen.

Mr Hatchet was livid. "Gwendolyn," he said, calmly, "do you know what you and Staci have in common?"

"YOU ARE BOTH GOING TO SPEND AN ETERNITY IN HELL!" roared B, Mr Hatchet's nephew. He was the emo kid of the school. He rarely spoke a word. Whenever he did speak, he spoke in a voice that was so loud, unholy and blood-curling you could swear he was being possessed by the Devil if you heard it. Every other student in the school that knew him agreed that the state he was in was simply the result of being Mr Hatchet's nephew.

"Well, yes, but that's not exactly what I was referring to," said Mr Hatchet.

"We both have gorilla feet?" wondered Staci, uncertainly.

"I don't have gorilla feet," Gwen corrected her.

"Me neither," said Staci, quickly. She tucked her gorilla feet under her chair before anybody else is the class could notice.

"You both have detention Grimmer," jeered Mr Hatchet. "Have a nice evening." Gwen and Staci groaned in unison.

"Now where were we?" asked Mr Hatchet. "Ah yes, of course." He opened a drawer in this desk, reached his hand in and presented a red trident. "This," Mr Hatchet explained, "is what the demons use in Hell to motivate the tortured souls. Are there any volunteers to demonstrate with me what it feels like to stabbed by one of these?" Naturally, no one dared to raise their hand. "Harold!" barked Mr Hatchet. "Thank you for volunteering! Come on up!"

Reluctantly, Harold got up from his desk. He slowly walked over to Mr Hatchet, who told him: "Lay the hand you use to write with on the table." Harold sighed and obediently placed his right hand on the table. Mr Hatchet, who still had not noticed – or was indifferent to – the pencil in Harold's eye, raised his trident before bringing it down; stabbing Harold's hand.

"YEOUCH! GOSH!" yelped Harold.

"And that is what most of you will be experiencing almost all the time in the afterlife," Mr Hatchet stated, taking no notice whatsoever of Harold's injuries. "Class dismissed. Get out."

* * *

The detention room was packed. Cody was writing "I must never cum in class" on the blackboard. On the blackboards next to him on either side, Sierra and Eva were writing "I must never rape in class". Geoff and Bridgette were making out, even though that was the reason why they got detention in the first place. Scott was imitating Duncan while the latter was carving his trademark skull-and-crossbones on his desk. Lindsay was struggling to do her write-out, which she got for not knowing the answer to one plus one. Tyler was clutching his broken pinkie. Noah was reading a book with a bored expression on his face, obviously not caring that he was put on detention. Owen was talking to Cameron, who happened to be trapped in the former's belly. Gwen was doing a crossword puzzle.

"Hmm, what's a five letter word for "Bird"?" wondered Gwen.

"Hmm, what's a four letter word for "Gwen"?" asked Staci, playfully.

"I don't know, what is it?" Gwen smiled.

Staci looked at the Goth girl before responding. "Uh, this is detention, not Irish!" she snapped. She picked up the magazine Blaineley gave her and proceeded to read. Gwen noticed this and started to feel profoundly sorry for Staci. After a few minutes of stiffing up the courage to speak to the brunette, she said:

"I used to read stuff like that too."

Staci looked up from her magazine in confusion.

"I thought that if I lost the two extra stone I used to have the world would automatically open me up to more opportunities," Gwen sighed. "I believed that, by losing weight, other girls would start asking me out on dates, more people would look up to me and maybe my dad would come home after he "left to go to the store" when I was three. Apparently, none of that happened."

"Maybe you should keep your nose out of other people's problems. That way your wishes would be more likely to become a reality," groaned Staci, dismissing Gwen's reassurances. However, Gwen did not stop.

"You're beautiful, Staci," Gwen finally stated. "And if anyone doesn't see it that way then they obviously have a problem."

"If that's the case, then the whole cheer leading squad have problems," Staci laughed ruefully.

"Yeah, they most definitely do," Gwen assured her.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Staci asked.

"Well, you're a bitch who rarely, if ever, shuts up," Gwen admitted, "and you dated Heather, one of the biggest bullies in the whole school. But in spit of all of these faults, school just wouldn't be the same without you. And I don't want to lose you."

Staci smiled. "That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me," she beamed.

Gwen smiled back. She reached out her hand. Staci looked at Gwen's hand. She slowly handed the magazine to Gwen. When she had the magazine in her hand, Gwen drew her arm back and fired it out the window.

"OW! MY BACK! CURSE THIS BARBARIC DAY! I'M PROBABLY IN HELL ALREADY! GOSH!" yelped Harold from outside.

"Well…that killed the moment," said Gwen.

* * *

After detention, Gwen and Staci walked out, smiling. Suddenly, Blaineley ran up to them.

"Staci!" Blaineley panted. "There's a sushi competition in the canteen! You ought to go to it!"

Staci looked at Blaineley, then at Gwen, then she looked back at Blaineley and said: "Nah, I'll pass."

"You WHAT?" gasped Blaineley. She growled. "FINE!" she roared. "BE A FAT PIGLET, STACI! I HOPE YOU DIE OF A HEART ATTACK! I – uh oh, I-I THINK I'M HAVING A HEART ATTACK!" she spluttered. She collapsed.

"Shouldn't someone call an ambulance?" asked Gwen, panicking.

"Don't worry, Izzy'll take care of Mildred!" Izzy called out, lashing out to seize Blaineley by the neck and dragging her to the girls' toilets, much to Blaineley's horror. Gwen and Staci shrugged the incident off apathetically. Staci turned to Gwen and asked:

"So Gwen…um…can I have…can I have a…" Staci began.

Before she could finish, Gwen pulled Staci into an embrace as the final chorus for _Hallelujah_ from Alexandra Burke played. "Thank you, Gwen," Staci whispered, as the song reached a poignant climax.

* * *

**Well what do you think? This story is significant because I know a few people who are overweight and they don't give a flying rat's arse about it, which is cool. I too used to be a bit overweight in my final years in primary school; maybe half a kilogram or so, I'm not exactly sure how heavy I was back them. But I've gotten skinnier since. That was only because I went outside more often; bouncing on the trampoline, cycling, going for walks in the woods and walking to town, you name it. Ironically, I eat more now than I did back when I was as plump as pudding. I don't know what's causing it, but I think I may have been blessed with an awesome stomach. On the other hand, I'm pretty much like most other lazy dude in his late teens who spends most of his free time on Fan Fiction Net, YouTube, Facebook, Twitter and playing Call of Duty. Yep, my life would be over if the internet were to disappear.**

**Anyway, I'm going to cut to the chase: being overweight is not a bad thing. Neither is being underweight. But if you are obese, then yeah… something is wrong. And if you are as skinny as a Barbie doll, then something is also seriously wrong. Eat lots of food, drink lots of water and get lots of exercise, preferably with fresh air. Exercise doesn't have to involve participating in sports, so if sports are not your forte – as in my case and Noah's case – just go for a nice long walk when it's sunny outside and you have nothing better to do other than sit on your arse all day long.**

**Also, go on YouTube and watch some of Shane Dawson's videos. You won't regret it - unless you are easily offended or disturbed. But give it a try anyway.**


End file.
